


I wanna be yours

by sianii



Series: Devotion Verse [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: D/s relationship, M/M, Songfic, domestic sumbission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sianii/pseuds/sianii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames had never thought about the future. He had also always been pretty sure about what he liked and wanted. Both had changed drastically when Arthur crashed into his life.</p><p>I wanna be your setting lotion (I wanna be)<br/>Hold your hair in deep devotion (How deep?)<br/>At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean<br/>I wanna be yours</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wanna be yours

**Author's Note:**

> First Songfic of this new challange with my love and beta. I was just itching to finally write sth for my two favourite criminals. The song is "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monekys. Gives me chills tbh!

When Eames used to think of the future, back in the day when he was still forging dreams, or even before that, the future had always been this ominous time that was yet to come, far away at the horizon and never coming closer really, no matter how many days and months passed. The future had always been right that for him: the unknown and more importantly, the unknowable. With that mindset it wasn’t exactly surprising that he had never made any plans. He had had some vague ideas. Doing that one last con at some point in his life, preferably before he had been so severely damaged physically or mentally that his bodily functions were retrenched, and then retiring to some hot and interesting piece of Mother Earth somewhere. All he needed was good food, tantalizing casinos and beautiful people of any gender to keep him company.

He used to float around, skipping towns and countries, going here and there and he had been fine. Brilliant in fact. Or that’s what he had thought.

And then Arthur had come into his life. Not quiet and subdued, like he always appeared to people, but rather forcefully with a loud bang. That bang had been Eames’s door being kicked down by said Arthur.

Eames had been on his feet in an instant, getting into position to defend himself, eyes twitching to all possible exits. But Arthur was fast and before Eames could even throw a punch or reach for this gun, Arthur had him pressed face first into the hotel room's carpet, arms twisted back and Eames could only gasp in shock. Arthur was more technique than blatant strength but it was absolutely enough to have Eames immobile in less than ten seconds.

Eames had struggled but when Arthur had pressed the barrel of his gun into Eames’s neck, he had stopped moving all together.

“Keep still and quiet, Mr. Eames,” Arthur had said and even in the position he had been in Eames hadn’t been able to stop noticing how calming and pleasant Arthur’s voice was, despite or maybe even because of the American accent that Eames normally found rather annoying. “It appears I am your backup. Or Plan B. Or exit strategy. Well, either way I’m going to get you out of here unharmed.”

“And why would I trust you Mr. …?”

“Just call me Arthur. You don’t have to trust me but my job will be much easier if you are cooperative. I’ll explain what is happening on the way to the safe house.”

Eames had snorted at that. “Yeah, I bet your job’d be easier if I don’t try to escape, darling. Not exactly a good reason not to make a fucking dash for it.”

He had been physically able to feel Arthur’s exasperated sigh. “I’ll finish my job either way Mr. Eames, don’t kid yourself.” He had pressed the barrel of his gun harder into Eames’s neck and Eames shuddered, body going lax under his hands as Arthur’s grip around his wrists had tightened, momentarily painful. “You will get up now, Mr. Eames, pack all your necessities in under a minute and follow me out of this building. You will stick close to me. You will not speak but you will listen until told otherwise. Understood? Don’t speak. Just nod.”

And Eames had. He had nodded, the barrel of Arthur’s gun scratching his skin in the process. But it hadn’t been the gun or the implied threat of physical violence that had made Eames comply. It had been all Arthur. His voice, his subtle strength, the raw dominance that he seemed to be able to turn on like a switch.

Eames had basically been able to hear the smirk in Arthur’s voice as he murmured _Good boy_ and removed first his gun, then his hands, then the rest of his body from Eames, giving him the space to stand up. A task that was rather difficult as Eames seemed to be unable to move, stunned by these two small words and even more by his reaction to them.

Arthur had cleared his throat rather loudly, nudging Eames leg with his shoe and Eames had been up in an instant. Furthermore, he had done exactly as Arthur had told him to, following and listening as Arthur explained what the hell had just happened.

The circumstances had been quite confusing at the time, still were, as Eames found keeping up with favours and debts and who was backstabbing whom necessary to know, but quite tedious to keep up with.

What was rather sharp in his mind even six years later was how he had dropped to his knees as soon as the door of the safe house had fallen shut behind them. He had basically been begging Arthur to let him suck him off and after Arthur had scrutinized him for long seconds, making Eames feel foolish and daft for his behaviour, Arthur had given him a short nod.

He hadn’t put away his gun, but had allowed Eames to open his grey slacks and pull them down just enough to free his still mostly flaccid cock. That Arthur had seemed to be so unaffected by him when Eames had felt like his world had shifted on its axis, had spurred him on, taking Arthur’s length into his mouth and sucking and licking until he had felt Arthur getting hard on his tongue. God, it had been the best feeling and he had made a content sound around Arthur’s cock. He had been answered by a small moan and happily he had repeated the sound.

That had been the exact right or exact wrong thing to do, Eames still wasn’t sure how to judge that, because in an instant Arthur’s hand that hadn’t been holding the gun had been in his hair, tugging him off and tilting his head up forcefully.

Arthur’s voice had been calm but powerful when he spoke. “Don’t do that. Hands behind your back, don’t speak, don’t move, unless you need me stop. If so, touch my leg. Understood? Then nod.”

And Eames had nodded once more, eyes wide and a second later Arthur had been shoving his cock down Eames’s throat. Eames had nearly gagged but he hadn’t. He had been able to take it and Arthur had seemed to know that. Arthur had set a cruel pace, shoving himself down Eames’s throat with no care for Eames’s breathing or discomfort but it had never been too much. Always just on the edge of it and Eames had wanted to moan but he hadn’t. He had wanted to pull off, to gulp down air only again he hadn’t. Eames had felt so used. He had felt owned like he was all Arthur’s to do with whatever he pleased and, _god_ , that had been a scary and exhilarating thought. He had never known he was even able to want this but Jesus he had. He had wanted to be his. He had wanted to be _Arthur’s_.

That night he had let Arthur have him however he had desired. They hadn’t talked, or well, they had, but they hadn’t chatted, they hadn’t discussed it and in the morning Arthur had been gone, a plane ticket and contact number left for Eames.

There had been ups and downs and detours and setbacks and really any obstacle imaginable. They had progressed from mark and one night stand, to acquaintances and colleagues, from the occasional work booty call to a loose Dom/sub relationship. Arthur had introduced him to everything and Eames had tried to play around with other people but he couldn’t with anyone but his Arthur. Eames had become Arthur’s that first night and he couldn’t share himself with anyone that way, even when Arthur didn’t seem to mind to share him. The worst time had been when Arthur had followed Cobb around the world, obviously not minding to favour someone else over Eames, even if it hadn’t been sexual. It had hurt like a bitch but there wasn’t much Eames had been able to do but to follow orders and come when Arthur called him.

In the end they had mastered Inception together. Had made the impossible possible. And Eames had come out of it receiving two confessions and a proposal.

Arthur had taken him to a hotel as soon as they had touched ground in LA. He had stripped him down and laid him bare but for once Arthur had bared himself too.

“If you had ended up in Limbo, Eames, I wouldn’t have been able to come up without you,” Arthur murmured into Eames ear, three fingers deep in Eames’s arse and hovering close over his back, pressing Eames into the mattress with a strong and firm hand. Eames had gasped and then grinned, unable not to, because that was as close as he might ever come to a love confession from Arthur.

In the morning had come the second confession.

“I’m retiring, Eames. I did it all and I have enough money. I also had enough stress and anguish to last for a lifetime.” And then came the proposal. “I want you to come with me.”

And Eames had.

So now the future was what Eames was living in. It wasn’t hot, there weren’t many casinos and the only beautiful person around that mattered was the man he lived with.

But it was home. It was too sticky, too rainy, too cold New York City, where Arthur went out in the morning to go to a perfectly boring (to Eames), well-paying and seemingly demanding (or so Arthur said) office job while Eames went into his studio to paint, forge, go over his digital art or photographies.

Eames never would’ve thought that this might be a life he could enjoy, but he did. He liked the quiet and his stupid gallery openings and fucking cocktail parties with people just as witty and smart as him, with just the right touch of pretentious and superficial to be amusing.

Even more important though, he liked being with Arthur. Even after all these years, he loved being Arthur’s and he thrived on all the new ways he had found that he could be Arthur’s, since they started having a life together.

It didn’t matter if it was just Eames bringing Arthur a hot coffee when Arthur was overworking himself late at night in his study, not being able to give Eames more than a distracted smile and a mumbled thank you. Or Eames flopping down to the carpet beside Arthur’s feet, when he was sitting on the couch, reading or watching telly. At first Arthur had told him to come sit up, but by now he only let his hand drift to Eames neck to scratch and caress, or simply tangle his fingers in the dark blonde hair.

A couple of weeks after moving in together Arthur had demanded exasperatedly to go shopping with Eames and buy him _some fucking normal clothes for once, Jesus, Eames, where do you even get this shit?_

From then on Arthur had picked out Eames’s outfits on most days. The new wardrobe had lasted for a very memorable duration of two weeks until Arthur had sat Eames down with a very serious expression and confessed that he missed Eames’s style of clothing. He had stressed how hideous Eames’s clothes were, not without admitting how much he loved them anyway because they were just so _Eames_. And he didn’t have to worry to destroy them, should the situation arise.

That Arthur chose Eames’s outfit was a routine that stayed though.

There seemed to be millions of little things like that and each and every one of them made Eames’s stomach flutter. He was sure that Arthur didn’t even notice but that was okay. He loved doing what he could for Arthur and he didn’t need grand gestures in return. The knowledge that Arthur relied on him, that he needed Eames, was good enough for him.

All he needed in return was for Arthur to be there at the end of the day to take him apart only to put him back together. Because as much as he had wanted to be Arthur’s since the day he had met him, even more beautiful was feeling that Arthur didn’t just keep him around but wanted him to be his as well.

He was Arthur’s lover, his best friend, his partner, confidant, sometimes just a stress relief or an open mouth but that was okay too. He was everything Arthur needed him to be, which was alright because what Arthur needed was Eames.


End file.
